Crumble
by Stungun Milly
Summary: I'm 15 years old, and I'm dead. That's all you need to know going into this." AU: a series of drabbles from the POV of Rukia, a high school student who believes she's lost her soul.
1. Death, Snow

Title: Crumble

Author: Stungun Milly

Genre: AU/General/Angst

Rating/Warnings: T for swearing, some heavy issues, and philosophical weirdness

Notes: This is the product of not having my roommate around to bug about my various epiphanies about life and my experiences. Some of the things in this story did happen to me or people I know.

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to Bleach or any of its characters; no profit was made from this story

Death

I'm 15 years old and I'm dead. That's really all you need to know going into this. My body may be alive, and my mind, but my soul is dead. It's empty. Hollow. My name is Rukia Kuchiki and my soul is dead.

How does a soul die? I'm not sure. I always thought a soul was supposed to go on forever, everlasting. Reincarnating or living in Heaven or Hell.

_I am the resurrection, and the life: __he that believeth in me__, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. _(John 11:25-26)

Maybe this is Hell, it's defiantly not heaven, but it's not torment, it's endless, yes, but it doesn't feel like torment. It just feels like life.

Snow

I'm twirling around in the snow. I really should hate the stuff, but I don't. I love it. This time last year I hated the snow, the wind, the cold, and the slush. Especially the slush. Snow so dirty it ceased to be snow, and just sits in the road, too messed up to even melt.

Last year, slush was being thrown at me by passing, indifferent cars with faceless, indifferent drivers. The bastards wouldn't call the cops because a coatless girl was walking by the side of I-90. The bastards would call the cops because there was some girl walking by the side of I-90 who might have run away. I really didn't know what was going on, my head was spinning, I don't even remember how long I had been walking. The cop told me it was 4 days.

In my memory the cop's name was CJ, I'm not sure that's true. It's probably not, now that I think about it. I'm surprised I even remember it was a girl. All that really sticks out is a muffled voice saying, "I've gotten some calls that you might need some help," screaming, babbling, the text on the screen through the grate, "Asi. Female, 13-15 y/o, unsure of mental status," and snow, falling endlessly into snow.


	2. Brother, Mother, Sister

Brother

Brother

I live with my brother, Byakuya. He's actually my brother-in-law, but it sounds awkward to say "I live with my brother-in-law," so he's become a brother. I'm sure other brother-in-laws would see this as a miracle, a rare acceptance by their spouse's family, but mine doesn't. He sees it as a burden, a drop in status, a plummet even. Taking care of his dead wife's sister.

I think he only stayed because of his weird sense of honor, he could have easily walked away like my dad and turned me over to the State of Idaho, but he didn't,. Maybe he wishes he did, but he knows Hisana would never forgive him. I would, sometimes I don't want me either.

Mother

My dad loved us, I'm sure of that, but he didn't love the obligations of taking care of a family. He loved art, but art doesn't support families. He left Mom for his mistress, his paintings, the world he'd created for himself. I was eight. Mom's life froze, she couldn't do anything, she couldn't function. She could only lay in bed, slave to the monster called depression. I didn't know what to do, I was angry at Dad, I was scared of Mom.

I tried to live without her, but I didn't know how. I became the star of the health-class video on how to spot neglect, I wore the same pair of jeans every day and switched between two t-shirts, unable to use the washing machine. In the lunch line at school I took as much food as I could, eating massive lunches and pocketing any food I could to take home for dinner, I tried to make Mom eat, but she refused. After two weeks I broke down and called Hisana. She hadn't heard, even though she lived in the NIC dorms, a forty-five minute walk away. She rushed home, abandoning college, scolding me for not calling right away, but praising me for being so brave and strong.

Mom went away for awhile afterwards, when she came back she went on as if nothing had happened, but it did, and she knew it. It clawed at her insides, and that was what killed her, not the empty pill bottles on the floor four months later. Hisana came home again, she never finished college.

Sister

My sister married Byakuya four years ago. I was eleven. I didn't know she was already sick then, she didn't look like it.

I know now.

I heard the word "HIV" a lot; I didn't know what it meant.

I know now.

Last year the word changed to "AIDS," I didn't know what it meant.

I know now.

Sex? Needles?

I don't want to know now.

.


	3. Glare, Sanctuary, Shadows

A/N: As you may have noticed, this story takes place in Idaho (my current residence), More specifically in Coeur d'Alene

A/N: As you may have noticed, this story takes place in Idaho (my current residence), More specifically in Coeur d'Alene. If you would like to know more about Coeur d'Alene and don't mind reading a children's book, check out _Mudgie and Millie_. It's about a moose and a mouse playing Hide and Seek around downtown.

Glare

Twirling, twirling, I love the snow. I flop down into a particularly large bank, when I hear a voice. "Rukia." It says, it's flat and indifferent, I ignore it. It keeps coming though, not any louder, but closer, closer.

I'm spun and I find myself looking at a man, or rather the torso of a man. I don't need to look up.

"Byakuya." I've stated the obvious, I hate that, I do it so often. Byakuya's not particularly fond of it either.

My brother's face doesn't change when I make eye contact, "it's 6:00." And? He looks frustrated for a brief moment, "you've been out here for four hours." 4, four, 4. Four days, 4 hours, four minutes, 4 seconds, four feels the same all around. What should I say? "So?" "I'll come in now?" "Why do you care?" "Do you want me inside?"

I open my mouth, "oh."

More frustration, "you're not wearing a jacket."

Oh, so I'm not. Strange, I don't feel cold.

"You're cold." Statement. "Come inside." Order.

I enter the house and I'm suddenly blind. Blind from the glaring reflection of light on white snow and white linoleum. When I blink a few times it become warm and comforting.

I want food, cereal, that sounds good. Ignore glare from brother, pour out 3 types of cereal into large bowl, drown in milk, and carry it upstairs. I know he's glaring again, let him, it hardly changes the expression on his face.

He thinks I'm stupid, that's what he sees, a slow, idiot child. And in the past few years he sees a fuck-up.

I see her too.

Sanctuary

I'm sitting on bed, bowl of cereal in my lap. I'm glad I didn't put Byakuya's GrapeNuts by mistake this time. That stuff looks and tastes like guinea pig food. I left the alarm clock radio this morning; the music is a dull hum in the background.

I like my room, it's where I spend most of my time. After school I'll come right here, only coming out for dinner, until it's time to go to school again.

Occasionally, my friend Nanao will come drag me out, saying it's unhealthy. Odd, since she spends almost as much time in her room as I do in mine.

I put the now empty bowl on my nightstand and lay back, looking at the plastic glow-in-the-dark moon and star I'd stuck to my ceiling.

Why leave the place I feel safest?

Shadows

I always see the shadows of the tree branches on my walls at night. Dancing and flickering. It used to scare me when I was little, tendrils of monsters that ate little girls while they slept. Now I find it interesting, comforting even, to watch the arms stretching to grab something, waving and flailing when they couldn't, protesting by clattering the few dried leaves.

The wind whistles though the branches, carrying large gusts of snow blown off the roof.

I kick off my shoes and get under the covers, I don't care about my clothes, I can change tomorrow. I lay in bed for what seems like hours, but when I sit up to check my clock, it's only been forty-five minutes.

I lay back down, I don't know how long it is before I fall asleep.


End file.
